


influences

by 0_P_A_L



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Adrenaline, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Animalistic, Blood, Bottom Venom Snake (Metal Gear), Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Kazuhira Miller, Fear, Fear Play, Feral Behavior, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker, Parasites, Quarantine, Raw - Freeform, Submissive Venom Snake (Metal Gear), feral Kaz, predatory instinct, primal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0_P_A_L/pseuds/0_P_A_L
Summary: Kazuhira Miller contracts the Parasite after being abducted by the Skulls. Body and mind-altering affects are observed and it is contemplated whether or not Subcommander Miller is still fit for duty, let alone fit to survive. What ensues was omitted from the service and activity records of the Diamond Dogs private military force.[while this work is in progress, tags, summary and peices of previously published text may be edited or removed. chapters can be viewed more as parts or scenes, will be kept short-form and brief. I hope you enjoy. <3]
Relationships: Kazuhira Miller/Venom Snake
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	1. ♦ rescue ♦

The worst effects came subtly, surprisingly. Days, perhaps weeks after his capture. 

His eyes had been going for years by now, and this only sealed the deal. The stench of his men's blood, dried and decaying, had filled his nostrils for days. The vapid sting of minor road rash covered with sweat-soaked cloth only served to rub salt in the slowly healing wounds. He could not hear much outside of the unintelligible shouts and clipped Russian of his captors and the faraway rumble of the motors of military vehicles. 

But slowly, other feelings bled through it. In his own smell and touch, the salt and grease and blood and dirt, and that of the old, dusty, dry little cobblestone cell he’d been thrown in, he’d grown numb to these feelings and had slowly, subtly began to perceive things outside his common realm of sensation. He certainly did not intend to, nor did these sensations become aware to him but naturally. Such as one may suddenly realize they are in a dream, or as a low, grating sound while existing in the outer edges of hearing, when cut off, is noticed in absence. 

Beneath his feet and under the seat of his body he could feel the minute shaking of the ground preceding a tank on the main road, or the closer footfalls of patrolmen. The movement of the wind, the beating of the sun was amplified on his skin and stung his eyes. When he chose to listen closer the incoherent mumblings of guards no less than forty paces from him could be heard. Even the echoes of those in the watchtowers did not fully escape him. And he smelt; oh, the stench. Dirt and dust and sweat and piss, blood and grease and salt and oil and smoke and all manner of the scents which come with residing in a place where war is breakfast, lunch and dinner. 

Wailing of prisoners, howling and bleating of wild animals, day and night the sensation of it all piled up on Kazuhira Miller’s weary, weathered mind. There was no relief. Until another altogether different sensation pierced the monotony. 

He smelt fear. 

The communication of the Russian troops became frantic, loud and high-pitched. He cringed as shots rang out, many close and a few faraway. The booming shockwaves caused his ears to ring, the grunting and tumbling of a few soldiers to the ground near the door only just entering his conscious. 

And then there was a different presence entirely. 

The scent of a familiar warmth, a sense of comfort regardless of how overheated he was in the broiling weather. Something stable, but just ever so slightly different from what he remembered. What exactly he was remembering though, remained to be seen. Heavy but careful footsteps pounded through the ground and reverberated under him, coming closer and closer. Yet he did not panic or seize up, as he had when the Russians routinely burst through the door to kick his liver in time and again. Something was so terribly odd, so unbelievably different, and still so comfortingly familiar about this being. He hadn’t even seen them yet. Not that he could see much of anything. 

He waited. 

Bated breath. 

Now that the panic had died down, he had trouble focusing in on anything less than loud and disturbing. 

Had they come in yet? 

The floor shook gently with footfalls and the air moved in front of him. He could smell oil and dirt, and used up gunpowder, but nothing just so generic. There was a presence in the room. As he brought up his eyes, he saw the bright warmth of a personage whose face he could not define. A glint of red metal met his eyes and suddenly there was external warmth, pressure, a gentle touch to his cheek. 

And when the man spoke, Miller knew. 


	2. ● alteration ●

The next thing Kaz saw was the blinding, oily-sheened light of the med bay. The ceiling was in such soft focus it could have been an overcast sky for all he could tell. He’d said something to the boss in the chopper. They had talked, however briefly. Or had they? He had been too dehydrated and delirious to quite remember. But at least he knew where he was now. Faintly, muffled through his blown-out ears he could hear the hushed conversation of a few medics at the corner of the bed. His eyelids stuck together as he blinked and his mouth felt full of cotton. 

“Water.” He rasped, trying to sit up. His muscles were burning, mysteriously. Burning, yet his skin was cold and clammy. One of the technicians startled as they heard his voice, quickly coming over to hand him a cup.   


Kaz notices his skin, in dull focus. It has a sickly color, pale and grey toned as if he had died days before and come back to life. Perhaps he had, and this was simply the delirium of a soul having difficulty leaving its body. But his mind was far too fatigued to entertain such speculation for long. “What day is it.” He asked next. 

“The twenty-fourth, sir.” 

“The twenny-fourth?” 

“Yes, sir. You’ve been in med bay for seventeen hours.” 

“Where’s the boss.” 

“On base currently, but-” 

“Get me the boss.” 

The two medics looked at each other and talked again in hushed tones. They backed off slowly, turning their backs and slowly strolling out the door. 

He growled and a bit of phlegm came up. No doubt they thought him currently out of his mind. He didn’t even know what he’d requested the Boss’s presence for. He had no information the man didn’t already know, he had nothing of strategic or other importance to say. 

Really, he just wanted to _say something._ Did he need the excuse of intel, or strategy planning? 

He wanted to talk to the man he hadn’t seen awake and aware in almost a decade. Though he seemed somehow different than he had once been. 

Well, it made sense. People change a lot in nine years. 

Though the Boss hadn’t truly lived them. 

Miller laid for hours, awake, in differing amounts of pain and discomfort from the non-identifiable ailment he was currently suffering from. Several who had come to check in on him he complained of issues to, and while he was given a new dose of medication, strange effects had seeped into his body. 

He could tell by now that he was not simply hallucinating. His hearing had indeed sharpened to ludicrous levels. Faintly, he could hear activity occurring all across the medical platform. Soldiers conversing, occasional wails of pain from other rooms, even the crash of the waves dozens of feet below. 

An almost dizzying mixture of blood, antiseptic, and medical grade plastic clung to his nostrils and further disoriented him. The air tasted metallic and the water like antibacterial compound. 

His senses had been so impossibly heightened. It was maddening after a while, migraine-inducing even. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted so badly for peace and quiet. Something had happened to him, unquestionably. Something unnatural. 

After twenty-six total hours in med bay, a doctor came in hesitantly with a surgical mask on and the look of bad news in her eyes. 

“Subcommander Miller.” She addressed, formally but with a gloomy tone. “We ran some medical tests on you on your return." She paused. 

“An, well?” Kaz didn’t like dramatic silence. Bad news was just intel, anyway. To be used as quickly as possible to increase or maintain an advantage. 

“Your physiological status is compromised. We detected an invasive parasite in your system which nobody here has ever seen before. You’ll likely have to be put in quarantine until we can figure out what it is and whether it’s harmful.” 

Ah. 

So there was that. 


	3. ■ effect ■

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates:  
> pt. 1- minor wording alteration.  
> pt. 2- minor correction.

Kazuhira Miller had been in quarantine for three days. It was agonizing. He’d been somewhere similar before. The endless hours of lying in bed, nothing to do but breathe and think. It had dogged him for weeks, even months when he had lost his limbs. But then, he at least had nurses, doctors to talk to, other patients to make small talk with when he was in a less-than-prickly mood - which was not often. At least then, he had been able to interact with the world. But now he was sealed off from everything and everyone. Medics came around rarely, and when they did, it was in and out as quickly as possible. 

Though he didn’t blame them. It was for everyone’s utmost safety, he understood that. Even if he thoroughly disliked it. Over the years he’d become accustomed to bearing many - _many_ \- inconveniences which he didn’t like. And he didn’t want to be the cause of crisis among his men. So he gritted and bared the endless hours of staring at the ceiling fan and listening to the crackly, old radio. But there was one other grateful distraction as well. 

His heightened senses were becoming more passive. Or at least, it was easier to deal with such a constant sensory overload when he had hours, days to practice honing the ability. He learned how to tune certain things out; refine his hearing, even to normal levels, or mute certain influences. 

Like learning to only search for the sound of the ocean. When he became competent at that, the hours were much nicer spent. For Miller, the sound of the waves was soothing to the soul. 

And narrowing down the cacophony of voices and machinery, to one conversation, or the single clinking of metal from a rattling bolt. Raging Dog and Crying Eagle would have to be separated into different teams, the way they fought. And he knew the vents on medical platform would be needing repairs. 

And choosing simply to intake the smell of the solitary vase of roses by the small port window. It was musty, but sweet and tangy as well, and welcome as opposed to the harsh, stinging stench of medical chemicals. 

And over these days, where his body had once been feverish, his flesh a sickly grey, warmth had once again spread, and the ill effects seemed to clear up. He was no longer running a fever, and though he still felt off in subtle ways, he believed he would be fit for duty soon enough. 

But he was still far too restless. 

On the morning of the fourth day Kaz made up his mind to get out of his accursed hospital bed. His joints ached from the lack of movement and poor support. So, feeling a bit of strength in his core, he sat up. 

He felt an odd burn in his abdomen, tingling down his legs and flowing through his arm when he flexed his wrist. His muscles tensed and twitched. It was no surprise he would be stiff after so much bedrest, but other than this, the feeling was more pronounced. 

Miller tried to stand, and his leg snapped into position as if he’d leapt to his feet. He grunted, his head spinning. Somehow he kept his balance as he took a deep breath. His prosthetic leg was leaning in the corner of the room and a crutch was just out of reach. 

Without even thinking, displaying an acrobatic flexibility he was thoroughly unused to, he somehow leveraged his body towards the crutch with a firm grip - like a dancer stretching on a bar. The plastic brace slid gracefully down his forearm and he tamped the end on the floor powerfully. Something about this supposed parasite had greatly improved his strength. 

It was one steady, wide step from his bed to the corner, his balance greatly improved as he strapped the leg in place. Now he felt _very_ sturdy. It was almost shocking how much so. In all his years with a crutch and a limp leg, Kaz had never felt truly independent. 

He had always relied on supporting his weight with a crutch. His spine had constantly ached from leaning to one side for hours on end. His arm and hand always tensed and sore, his knee feeling the effects of the pressure from the prosthetic cup. 

No longer was this the case. 

In what little time it had taken from his capture to this moment, he had grown strong in ways he didn’t think possible. 


	4. ♦ return ♦

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates:  
> pt. 2 - minor wording correction.

Six days in quarantine, more than two weeks since he had been kidnapped, and Kazuhira had changed. Heightened instincts, sturdier limbs, and extrasensory perception that would make a radar jealous. It surprised him how easily these improvements settled in, once he had practiced using them. 

But one thing always threw him way off. Every day or so, between the monotony of medics, men and women bustling about the platform, all smelling of alcohol and iodine, a much starker presence would fade in. The smell of old smoke and stale gunpowder would come wafting through the vents, and under the door. And the gentle but powerful footsteps would come so close he could feel them through the bed at his fingertips. 

“How is he.” Asked the boss, at first. 

That voice made Miller’s heart pound. Even hearing it, slightly muffled and echoed through the door to the hallway, it was rich, deep and gruff. 

“He is recovering, but we’re not sure how long it’ll be before it’s safe for you to see him.” Replied a doctor. 

Each day Kaz waited to hear that voice again. Knowing that Snake was just on the other side of the door, not a mere 10 paces from him, it was agonizing. 

Miller spent each new day after getting up again, distracting himself by trying to utilize his newfound mobility. The conflict between his atrophied muscles and the unnatural, injected strength from the parasite was disorientating. He was now perfectly capable of all the simple exercises – pushups, sit-ups, stretches and the like. But his muscles would spasm and tingle, like a low current was running through his body. It was distracting, and he disliked it, but it wasn’t painful. 

He even found himself gaining a bit of tone, where had been before a flat, soft surface of the abdomen, was now a less cushy layer of what could eventually be rightfully called muscle. 

His endurance was thoroughly shot, naturally. The parasite’s effects did not enhance him so well in this respect, more like simply forcing his lungs to expand and contract in such a way to most optimally intake oxygen. It was unpleasant. 

Fortunately, now that he was strong enough to get up, he could get himself clean. He washed up in the shower in the corner, handily able to keep himself balanced on one leg. Before he would have needed a chair. Though he did still find that it was difficult not to drop the bar of soap. 

Finally the day came that Kaz was given the clear. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was a bit feverish to get back out into the world. All the sights and sounds and sensations he’d been missing out on for a week and a half he was eager to immerse himself in again, _for real_ \- not just in the realm of his mind. 

A medic had brought him his button-down shirt and dress green slacks, which he was proud to be able to put on himself with relatively little effort. He was up early, wanting to surprise – and possibly impress – boss by going to him first. 

He was lacing up his shoes, when the door cracked a bit. “Commander?” A medic peeked his head through. “Now that you’re cleared, the boss wants to come in and check on you. You alright with that?” 

Kaz was just a bit caught off-guard. It seemed odd that Snake would’ve asked first instead of just coming in. Miller wasn’t expecting such a polite courtesy. “Yes.” He replied after a moment. 

The medic nodded and slipped back out the door, and as Kaz sat up straight and stood, a bit of a spring in his step and his chest puffed proudly, 

There he was. 

Miller was not 

As ready to see him as he’d thought. 


	5. ◘ strife ◘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> proofreading / editing help by Andromeda.

As Venom Snake stepped through the door of Miller’s recovery room, Miller’s heart had nearly stopped.  It was as if he was the water, and Snake had submerged himself. Every curve, every inch, Kaz could sense it all with as much intimacy as he wished  in an instant . 

His scent was  all the more palpable. K az could even tell  the man had washed up recentl y .  Miller’s vision, though still worn and blurred at the edges, had improved so much as to allow him to take in the man’s face like  high  art. The  fine details, some pretty \-  a gruff, unkempt beard framing a  chiseled jaw -  and some not so pretty \- the unfortunate cross stitch ing of scars on each side of his forehead . And it enriched th e  whole in result .

In the back of his mind he  could hear Snake’s powerful  heart beat calmly , as well as his own heart pound ing .

“ Kaz.. ”  The man spoke, and the richness of the sound was unmatched. His tone was ever so smooth, and his demeanor looked sickeningly gentle. An amount of gentleness that far outclassed what Miller f elt he deserved.

Kaz was lightheaded with the intimacy of the perception. He’d forgotten for a moment, even to breathe .

“Kaz..?” Snake repeated.

Miller  realized that the details had swept him up all at once .  He cleared his throat a nd blinked . “Boss.” His own voice sounded clearer in his head, and fortunately more confident than he thought it would.  “ Ready to get back to work. ” He couldn’t bring himself to a smile, his mouth didn’t make expressions like that anymore. Nevertheless,  there was a  hint  of  high spirits in his voice.

“ There’s .. N o rush. Are you  feeling  alright? ” Snake  replied.

How did he mean? Did it not make sense for Miller to hit the ground running as soon as possible? What did it matter how he was feeling?

“ I’m feeling fine. I want to get back to working. With you. ” Miller  answered , taking a step towards his boss. 

It was now that Venom seemed to notice that something was off. His brow furrowed a bit more than usual and he glanced Kaz up and down quickly, as if assessing the access points of a  bunker. " I don’t want you risking your health,  if you still need time to recover.”

Kaz didn’t like this careful distance. This courteous comforting, the gentleness with which Snake was handling him. It didn’t feel real. It felt like an illusion , like the many dreams Kaz endured in which Snake was present, welcoming, but always just out of  reach.

It sounded like Venom  _ wanted  _ Kaz out of reach. The Boss was back, and his first response to his second-in-command of nine years was apprehension? 

Did he not care?

“ Snake,  _ I want _ to get back to work .  Do you not  want me around? ” Kaz noticed himself stepping closer and closer to Snake as he spoke. And an altogether new feeling was starting to appear in him , something like anger, something almost  painful welling up in his chest. Venom backed away ever so slightly.

Hi s tone  sounded a little nervous. “ No.  It’s not that, Kaz . Just.. You were bedridden for two  weeks . I want you to be sure you’re well enough to function. ”

“ You don’t believe I’m sure now? You don’ t  think I know that coming into this injured would be a bad idea? ”  Kaz ’ s throat was turning rougher as he began to growl out his words . He ever so disliked being treated so delicately. It was such insult to injury, his fiery spirit denied ,  being so disfigured as he was,  and lending him to such pity of others , even among his only superior.

Years and years, he had spent waiting for the day when he could take up the reigns as the man on the Boss’s six, and now that it seemed that was being threatened, he was  lashing  o ut . Trying to figuratively claw his way back to the position he desperately wanted.

“ Kaz, I’m not attacking your credibility. Y ou just might not be as ready as you think you  are.. ”  Snake kept coming on the defensive, taking one step back, as Kaz took another step forward. There was an unplaceable look on his face. “It.. Could be an honest mistake...”

Why was Snake retreating? What about Kaz was making him so uncomfortable?

It left Miller feeling indignant, out of control, disillusioned. In his daydreams, he’d imagined the Boss welcoming him back with open arms, comradery, just like the old days. But it seemed these  halcyon fantasies were just that.

This  was unacceptable. He needed to be closer. He needed to show Snake  he was still capable, still able-minded, and even more able-bodied. More so , he needed to prove to himself that this was real. Desperately needed to tear away the  decade-old feeling of limbo, directionless disenfranchisement that had  begun with the end of MSF. He needed it now.

“ ** Boss ** **... ** ”

The parasites mixed with his constant dehydration made his voice come out as a  snarl  more than  anything .  Kazuhira lurched forward on his leg and crutch, his muscles supported on their unnatural reinforcement . It took him a moment to realize he had backed Snake against the door. His chest was seized with passion, his eyes boring  intently into Venom’s as he felt, finally, the faintest of physical contact with the man.

The look of Snake’s face so close,  feeling the  gentle  brush of his breath,  and oh, the scent of him. Bringing back so many memories all at once but not quite envisioning any of them clearly. Salt water, and cigar smoke, two of V’s strongest markers. But mixed in, was something else. Something much more palpable up-front , even in such a small dose . He could smell

Fear.

Snake was afraid.

Afraid of contracting the parasite?

Perhaps.

Afraid of Kaz?

Afraid that the Kazuhira Miller, standing battered but firm before him, was not what he said he was?

Perhaps  all of the above.

Whatever the case, this fear... the scent of  adrenaline -  _ Venom’s _ adrenaline - was quite a rare taste. It was faint but prominent, t ickling the inside of Kaz’s nose and making his mouth water.

He liked it.

He liked it very much.

This raw, primal urge to sink his teeth in suddenly rushing to the surface. Like a drop of blood to lure a shark.

Kaz  didn’t notice that his teeth were  bared .

“Kaz... 

What..

happened to  you..? ”


	6. □ reconnection □

Kazuhira Miller smelled fear. He could feel Venom Snake’s heart beating just a bit quicker than it was a few moments ago. His brow was drawn, his eye uncertain as it met Kaz. But this fear seemed to be mixed with concern. A deep-rooted concern that almost made Miller self-conscious. 

“Kaz... What... happened to you?” Snake asked, a bit of nerve edging into his voice. From then, Miller knew that the jig was up. 

What _hadn’t_ happened to him? He had lost half his limbs. He had lived, survived ten years, dealing with the trauma from one. What hadn’t been taken from him, the only true thing of value left he had been able to cling to, 

he had backed against the wall like a predator. 

This, all this. Decidedly wasn’t **him** . Being feared was nice, but not by your own Boss. All that suavity and charisma Miller used to possess had dried up long ago, and he greatly disliked the possibility that the man he was now was incompatible with Snake. Even more, that he was _intimidating_ _, undesirable_ to him. It put a bit of a churn to his stomach, after the rush of endorphins he’d had previously. Snake had put him on a rollercoaster, and he had to get off, else he might return his nonexistent breakfast. 

Kaz untensed and backed off. He sighed, shaking his head. “I... 

I’m sorry, Boss... I didn’t want our first meeting to go this way. But, God. Where to begin.” He strolled nonchalantly back to the bed, barely having to strain any weight on his crutch. “I can give you the official report. Or I can tell you what the last ten years have been _like_.” He sat with a grunt. “And what’s still happening to me.” 

Venom had screeched a metal chair across the linoleum, taking a seat in front of the man. He paused, seeming to take a moment to process. “You can tell me whatever you want me to know.” He replied, sounding charitably forgiving, reflected by the look in his eye. 

This will to forgive, to be fair and merciful. It was uncharacteristic of the Snake he had known. But it had been years, he recognized. And the change was not necessarily _disliked_ by Miller. 

“Alright, Boss.” 

The sun was now well above the sky and was closer to the opposite horizon. Snake hadn’t said but a few words between the long, ambling walk through Kaz’s life. He had since leaned forward in his chair, eye looking deep into Kaz with intent. Holding a hand to Miller’s shoulder when he started to shake, seemingly unnoticing of the tear or two that occasionally slipped past the defense of Miller’s aviators. 

Kaz’s senses were muddled. Through dredging up the last nine years of his life, his view had been clouded, his perception blurred. The world in his mind had narrowed down, and no longer were the outer edges of his conscious buzzing with noise. As far as he was concerned, his world was just he and Snake for the moment. 

As it should have been. 

“So, you think the parasite is what caused you to.. Feel. More.” V takes a moment to move in close. Like his words are more private than just being alone with the man, but that his voice _itself_ is for no one’s ears but Miller’s. 

“Yes. In a sense.” Kaz isn’t completely certain of his words, but Snake’s unrelenting supportive calm, a feeling that’s radiating out of him in a way that Kaz can sense, leaves him feeling more at peace with what he’s saying. Snake believes him. Or at least, believes that Kaz knows his own experiences. 

“How does it manifest?” 

It manifests in the way that a little tingle goes up Miller’s spine, when he feels the cool metal of Snake’s fingertips graze over the back of his hand in this moment. It manifests in the way that Miller can hear the little movements, the hums and clicks of the mechanisms in Venom’s arm when it moves, charmingly gentle for all its firm edges. 

“What do you feel right now?” 

“What do I feel...?” The question was kind of vague. But Miller suspected that was more or less intentional. It wasn’t about status report, it was about sensation. 

And boy. With his world narrowed down so much, unable to dive deep into his own self, the only other person he can perceive is giving him a lot of sensation to work with. 

“I can feel...” 

He starts with a squeeze. 

“Your hand. 

There’s electricity flowing through it, and when we touch. It discharges.” 

Venom pulls his hand away just slightly. “Does it hurt?” 

“No,” Kaz tugs back much further than that. “...Just, like tingling. I like it, a bit.” He likes it very much. He likes touching Snake at all, very, _very_ much. 

“Okay.” Boss replies. Through silence, he urges Kaz to continue. 

“Okay... Well...” The problem was not what else to find, but what of the many features of Venom’s body, mind, _existence_ he would pay verbal homage to now. 

With his mind’s eye, he traveled up the arms. “I can feel your pulse.” 

Kaz’s hand slowly unhooks from the Snake’s prosthetic and comes to caress the back of his flesh hand. “Through your skin.” 

The Boss pauses a moment at the touch, leaning in close and letting Kaz relax into a grip around his hand. He bows his head a bit and smirks. “My pulse.... hah.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s just. I wasn’t sure I still had one.” 

Oh, but he did. Kaz’s pale, cold hand was warmed to the bone by the heat radiating off of Snake, his proud heartbeat sending blood coursing strongly through old veins, unbeknownst to the man on the exterior. Venom was undoubtedly more alive than anyone Kaz had ever seen. 

The light may have faded slightly from his eye, his stare a-thousand yards farther than it had been nine years ago. But there was charm left in this well-used body, a deeply buried warmth and spark of life leftover, Kaz could feel it. All he needed to do was to unveil it, dig it back out again if he could. If not for his own sake, then for Snake’s. 

“Seems like there’s a lot you’re not sure about, Boss.” Kaz’s voice came out soft. He squeezed Snake’s hand just so. 

They did not look at each other, though their faces were just inches apart. Kaz’s milky eyes were focused in on the way Snake’s tanned, battered flesh contrasted his own. He heard Snake’s heart stutter a bit with the squeeze. 

“..Well. It’s uncertain times.” A shiver ran up Miller’s spine, a cool metal hand closing over his own. 

“But you’ll be with me through them,” It was half-question, half-statement. A little waver of unsurety in the gravelly depth of the Boss’s voice. 

Just this little bit of power which Snake was entrusting him with didn’t go unnoticed. A little show that he still cared, that Kaz wasn’t lost to him. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe it was a sign that even after all these years, Snake still wanted him, needed him around. 

Miller let himself untense a little further. He exhaled softly, touching his forehead to Venom’s while being careful of the shrapnel. Being this close to him, his mere presence like a magnet for Kaz’s compass. He had missed it dearly. 

“Always, Boss.” He answered. 

The faint, sweet-adjacent scent of Venom’s serotonin filled Miller’s parasite-heightened senses, and he didn't think he’d smelled anything more gratifying in his life. 


	7. ♦ business ♦

Venom woke up without recollection of his name, location, or purpose. 

Many mornings started this way. It could take five, perhaps ten minutes for him to come back from the void, dissociating to hell and back and quietly panicking the whole way, until he could see colors correctly again, feel his body, taste his own mouth and hear his own thoughts. 

It wasn’t pleasant, but he had surrendered to the inescapable fact that the physical trauma to his brain would occasionally be causing problems for him for the rest of his unnatural life. 

It wasn’t like he could complain. If he’d been just a smidge less lucky, he would have been dead. 

Not that death didn’t sound appealing in its own special way. 

He tied his hair back and put on his patch, pulling on the most utilitarian of undergarments and checking his iDroid. He’d now be performing his missions with Kaz as his support, officially. Which was, he wouldn’t call it exciting, but welcome, to say the least. 

Snake reflected on the day before as he put on his field gear. Much had changed about Miller, both from all those years ago, and even more alterations during his period in quarantine. But it would have been foolish to think that a man who had experienced as much as he, _wouldn’t_ have become a different person. 

Venom was at least grateful that, for all the transformations the two of them had undergone, they were still able to cleave unto one another. 

To Snake’s surprise, Miller met him on the platform as Pequod touched down to the landing pad. “Snake,” Kaz called gruffly over the sound of whirring blades. He was walking with the ease and confidence that a man missing a leg should _not_ have had. 

He met the man halfway, and was a little caught off-guard when he was pulled into a tight one-armed hug. As soon as he registered it he held the man tight, leaning his head down into the crook of Kaz’s shoulder. The jacket smelled faintly of dust, Kaz’s hair and suit and the scruff on his jaw giving off the scent of a charming English study. Snake let himself linger there, in that calming imagined atmosphere. 

“Be careful.” Kaz grunted, muffled against Venom’s shoulder. 

“I will,” Snake replied in Miller’s ear. 

They let go, and Snake lifted himself onto the chopper. They didn’t take their eyes off each other till the base was far away, swallowed by sunlight and ocean waves. 

“Boss, that was exceptional. This is why you’re the best.” 

The thoroughly loyal praise, in Kaz’s rough but gentle tones of voice humming in his ear, left Venom buzzing with a satisfaction he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Snake couldn’t help it when the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, his chest swelling with a bit of pride at the recognition of a job well-done. No kills, no alerts, as clean as it comes. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Miller.” Snake muttered into the earpiece. 

“Oh, shut up. Don’t flatter me.” The sweet tone in Kaz’s voice betrayed the disrespect of the words. “Make sure Ocelot doesn’t catch you saying stuff like that, he might get jealous.” 

“Eh. Let him.” Snake tapped out of the line jovially, hearing Kaz chuckle on the other end as he spurred D-Horse towards the desert sands. 

_Oh_ , that lovely sound. The sound of Miller’s smile through the fuzzy audio connection was enough to fuel Venom for mission after mission. 

He loved that praise. Didn’t realize how fast he drank it up, how long he wanted it to linger in the center of his mind. He was no longer focusing on his work, but the man he’d be coming home to at the end of a job well-done. 

Snake returned late at night. It probably could have been considered morning, but he had lost count of the hours. Things had gotten a bit bloody towards the end. 

He heaved himself off the helicopter and trudged towards- 

_Oh shit, the puppy._

Venom hollered at Pequod to stop his ascent just before he fully left the ground. Carefully, exhaustedly, he knelt on the floor of the chopper and scooped the tiny one-eyed dog off the canvas seat closest to the door. 

He had found the poor thing cowering under a bed in one of the blasted-out buildings on the edge of Da Wialo Kallai. A sandstorm had kicked up just as Pequod reached the landing zone, so he had to carry it in his hands back to the chopper. 

Still, it felt worth it. 

As Pequod pulled up again, the little puppy wriggled out of Snake's hands and skittered onto the pavement clumsily. After stretching its legs and getting a bearing of its surroundings, it turned round and looked up at him expectantly. 

“Oh?”Venom lifted a brow. He’d expected the mutt to go running off in a direction and having to get the soldiers on duty to wrangle it. 

He started to trudge towards the shower, glancing back and whistling. To his satisfaction, the dog began to follow. 

Snake smiled just a bit. Maybe this little guy could be part of the family. 

\- 

Kaz smelled Venom coming and a bit of the tension in his shoulders was relaxed. He knew that Snake had been injured during his last side op, and while it hadn’t been much, visually confirming Snake’s health would ease his mind. 

But along with V’s scent, there was another one. Less pleasant. The quiet scratching on the metal floor outside his office confused him. 

“Snake,” As Snake came through the door, something else came into the office. 

“..And a puppy...?” 

The slightest smile appeared on Venom’s weathered face. “I found him all alone out there. Looked like a fighter. Thought he might fit in here.” He sank into the chair on the other side of Miller’s desk, rubbing his temples and putting his feet up. 

The little mutt skittered up to Kaz slowly, nose twitching. He reached his hand out slowly, the pup backing away before cautiously sniffing. 

“That’s not just any kind of dog, that’s a wolf, Snake.” Kaz remarked as the puppy barked and pushed its head into Miller’s palm. 

“Huh. You don’t say.” V shook himself out of a yawn. “Someone’ll have to train him... He seems loyal, but he’s not disciplined.” 

Unlike Snake. Miller could tell the man was fighting passing out right then and there. 

“It’s late, Boss. You deserve a rest.” He offered. 

“So do you. If you don’t take a break, where do I get off sleepin’, huh?” 

Kaz could hear the exhaustion edging into his voice more with each passing moment. And he would’ve gladly let the man collapse right there in his office. “On the contrary. You work far harder than I do. I only get away with the long hours by sitting still.” 

“Mm.” Snake replied. 

The wolf pup made a jump for Miller’s lap and he squawked, chuckling as its tiny paws clawed for grip on his legs. 

“S’a spritely little fella.” He stroked its head. 

“You’d expect he’d be a lot more hostile, having grown up in a warzone. Especially missing his eye, poor thing. It’s a miracle he survived.” 

As it settled on his lap, Miller reached over for the last remnants of a half-eaten drying out sandwich and gave it to the mutt, who tore at it with jubilant abandon. 

“Might not have lasted much longer, had you not gotten to him.” Kaz sighed. 

There was nothing better than a pet, even something as annoying to take care of as a puppy. His extra senses were edging at him, like he was the parent of this sweet animal. He wanted to take care of it. Much like he wanted to take care of Snake. But Snake was a _man,_ who didn’t want anyone else to take care of him, much less need it. Kaz did what he could, but it would always be a minor role. For Venom would always give more for others than he would allow to be given to himself. 

“Yeah. I think the little rascal will fit in around here just fine. I’m glad you rescued him. Maybe if we train him right, he’ll be able to help you on missions. What do you think?” 

“..Snake?” 

Kaz looked up, and the hardened veteran was sound asleep in the chair, arms folded and legs up. His features, usually drawn and tense, were more smoothed now. Though his face was smeared with hints of blood, he looked calm. 

Miller smiled, scrutinizing Venom’s form over and over, like fine art. 

A light rain began outside in the early morning sky, and Kaz leaned back in his chair. 

He let out a long, relaxed breath and closed his eyes. 


End file.
